


[s] make her spay

by vriskas_daddy



Category: Homestuck
Genre: BDSM, F/F, Gore, Kismesissitude, dont try this at home Im a PROFESSIONAL xD, spaying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-28 01:15:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10820664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vriskas_daddy/pseuds/vriskas_daddy
Summary: Your name is [Y/N], and Vriska is being a bad girl.dont like dont read!!!!





	[s] make her spay

Your name is [Y/N], and Vriska is being a bad girl.  
“Bad girl,” you say to her, and kick her in the side. She does a little doggy whimpery whimper. The whimper goes into your brain and straight through your body into your secret parts cave. But you can’t break character, so you kick her again. She does an even more whimpery pitiful whimper. Then you decide to stop kicking her.  
“Am I 8eing a good girl, [Y/N]????????” she whines.  
“No, you are being a bad bitch!!!!!!!!!” you say to her. “Also you need to call me Mistress Daddy, remember? Bad girl, Vriska.”  
She does a puppy dog thing with all eight of her eyes, and your heart melts a little bit. But then you look down at the floor, and you remember why she is a bad girl. The floor is covered in Vriska’s special doggy juice, which is what you make her call it, so you call it that too, but the special doggy juice on the floor is mixed up with lots of juice and ice cream. Vriska had gotten bored waiting for you to get home from work, and she had gotten too excited and not had any tail to wag because the tail is locked in the special cupboard, so she had gotten things out of the freezer and shoved them in her moist doggy hole. You knew Vriska had an ice cream kink, but you didn’t know that her libido was so cranked-uppedly out of control. She was a bad girl for making a mess on your floor with her special doggy juice, obviously, but also for fucking something which is not you, her Mistress Daddy. She is in sooooooo big trouble. The trouble is bigger than your dick. You don’t have a dick but if you did it would be really big so… you know what, never mind. Anyway the point is she’s in big trouble. Let’s just go with that. And the trouble she is in is so big that the punishment can be just as big, which makes your secret cave turn into a secret ocean cave full of salt water. You hope Vriska doesn’t think you’ve wet your pants.  
“Are you ready to be punished, bad bitch??????????” you ask her in your most menacing voice, kneeling down to be on her eye level but then quickly standing up because you were kneeling in the mess on the floor, and now your pants are soaked at the crotch and the knee. Which is really unfortunate. You will need to make Vriska do your laundry, after the real punishment.  
“Yes, Mistress Daddy,” Vriska begs, finally talking after a very, very long paragraph of description. The begging makes the ocean dripping turn into an ocean-y saltwater waterfall. Fuck.  
“All right. You are going to be spayed.”  
“Spade, Mistress Daddy?” Vriska asks, doing the nya thing with both of her hands but in a doggy way. “Am I not already your kismesis, or spade? In troll quadrants, a kismesis is represented by a spade.”  
“Yes,” you say to Vriska, “we are in a kismesissitude, or a relationship defined by hatred but in a romantic sense, also called blackrom and represented by the spade suit on playing cards, and we hatefuck all the time. That isn’t what I said. You are going to be spayed.”  
“Spade?” Vriska asks.  
“Spayed.”  
“Spade?”  
“Spayed.”  
“Spade?”  
“Spayed.”  
“Spade?”  
“No you idiot I’m going to spay you, bitch.”  
“What?” she asks adorably, showing her fangs in a very kawaii way.  
“I am going to spay you. I am going to remove your ovaries.”  
Vriska does a little adorable shriek and pushes herself against the wall. “What?????????????”  
“You heard me right,” you say, doing your best effort at a grin which is scary but it probably just looks silly. Your kismesis dogfriend doesn’t mind, though. Then you remember that she is also a person sometimes, when you aren’t roleplaying. But you roleplay all the time though. But she is technically a person. You do a stage whisper and tell her “The safeword is webbing, remember!!!!!!”  
She wonks at you and whispers “I know but I don’t care because you can do anything you want to me!!!!!!!!!” Then she says in her in character voice, “Oh no!!! My evil Mistress Daddy is going to remove my ovaries.” She faints but you see that two of her eyes are still open. Whatever.  
You grab a really sharp knife from the cabinet and rinse it off to avoid germs. You turn to her, holding the knife tightly, and indicate the kitchen table. 

“Lie down on that, bitch.” It will be your operating table for this procedure. Vriska does as you say (she couldn’t disobey you if she wanted to) and climbs on top of the table, lying down. You walk over to her and examine her lower belly. She’s a tubby girl, and you hiss slightly through your teeth, wondering how far you’re going to have to cut through layers of fat before reaching her ovaries. You decide that it doesn’t matter, and ready the knife. 

The first cut isn’t nearly deep enough, but the bleeding is copious, and Vriska has to choke down a scream. As you go deeper, cutting through fat and muscle, she’s no longer able to hold it back. The screaming reverberates through the kitchen, but she still doesn’t say the safeword, so you don’t stop. Finally, you see something different from the flesh around it- the slippery blue-tinged flesh indicating an organ. Cutting even deeper, you see that it’s one of the things you’re looking for- Vriska’s ovaries, ready and ripe for the taking. 

With one stroke of your blade, you sever the fallopian tube. By now Vriska’s throat has grown hoarse- she can’t scream any more, but as you look at her face, mouth open and tears streaming down her cheeks, you know it’s not for lack of trying. You stop momentarily- if she can’t talk, how could she stop you? But she looks down the table at you, noticing the lack of cold metal against- in- her stomach, her brow furrowed in confusion. You take that as an indication to continue, and go back to your previous activities. 

You scoop out the first ovary with your knife, setting the glistening orb down on the table next to you. The gaping hole in Vriska’s stomach is still pumping cerulean blood, and you notice that you’ve overlooked something drastic- what if she bleeds out before the procedure is finished? A dead kismesis is no use to you. So you grab something that is never scarce in your household to sew her back up. Spider’s silk is strong enough to hold her skin together and keep her organs from falling out, at least until you get something better. But you don’t have anything to sew her shut with. Thread is no use without a needle, after all. You consider, looking around the kitchen for more supplies, until your eyes finally alight on her mouth. Perfect.  
“Open your mouth, bad girl,” you tell her in what you think is probably a sexy voice. She complies, shaking and bleeding from her stomach, but her eyes are glazed over in a look of bliss. You stick your knife in her mouth, and slowly, ever so painfully slowly, pry out one of her fangs. There’s a ripping, squelching noise as it rips out of her gum, and she whimpers, digging her nails into the table. You take the tooth and tie the silk to one of its ends, then put it against one side of your incision, poking the needle-sharp tip through. Slowly, carefully, you sew her up, then tie the thread and look at your handiwork. It’s a bit messy, but it will hold. Then you walk around the table to the other side to repeat the process.

Vriska’s other ovary is easier to remove now that you know what to expect, and a few minutes later you’ve deposited it on the table and sewn up the cut. You walk over to the sink and wash off your knife, then put it on the counter to dry. Then you turn back to Vriska, who is still lying on the table, barely moving. Her eight eyes are wide, staring at the ceiling, and you sigh quietly. Then you walk back over and kiss her bloody lips gently. “Webbing,” you say, and she relaxes slightly. Then you look her up and down. She’s covered in blood and other fluids, her breathing fast and irregular. “Want a painkiller?” you ask her, and she shakes her head no. 

“I want to feel the pain,” she says, her voice hoarse from screaming. You roll your eyes.

“If you say so.” Then, ever so carefully, you slide your arms under her and carry her to the couch, trying your very hardest not to drop her, which is hard with your noodle arms. You set her there, then turn back to the mess in the kitchen. You sigh. This was fun, but it’s going to be one hell of a cleanup job.


End file.
